Straight To You
by SometimeLonely
Summary: Neville Rogers, adopted son of Steve Rogers, is invited to help make certain the dark magic being sensed from the United Kingdom is kept under control. Though raised in magic he's never been a part of any one community and the wars of his birth nation are unknown to him. As he involves himself in a magic war he will find family, knowledge and love. Direct sequel to "Cradle Song."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter, Avengers, Star Wars, The Losers, etc...The use of these characters and plot points is purely for entertainment. No monetary compensation is gained from this publication.**

 **A/N: This is a direct sequel for "Cradle Song" found under my author page. This will make so much more sense if you read that first. :) Please let me know if you enjoy.**

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"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, Nev?"

Neville Rogers, soon to be Neville Rogers-McCoy, smiled when his sister sidled up to him, a smile spreading on her pretty face, a blush high in her cheeks, her flowy tea length dress settling gracefully around her calves as she wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his ribcage, considering she only came up to just under his armpit. He pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, setting his chin to the top of her head with a grin. She was just tipsy enough to allow it, even giggling at his antics and leaning back against him, even though she wasn't usually one to snuggle in any way. He huffed a little, trying to prevent a sneeze, when the flowers in the crown settled on top of her flowing magenta hair nearly went up his nose.

"It is a beautiful day," he agreed, looking out at the spacious backyard that he had helped into blooming when the two men he now called fathers had decided that that they wanted an early summer wedding before most of the flowers of their garden were ready to come up from the soil. The man who had loved him from the day the kindly professor had brought him to him, the only man he'd ever really known as a father, was dancing, barefoot and with his youngest brother on his hip, with the man he'd so deeply fallen in love with. The grumpy, golden-hearted doctor who had come into their town and their lives and settled them in way nothing but love could have been able to do, was laughing with his head thrown back, nothing but joy written on his face, as he laughed at the chubby fingers of the baby patting his face and swayed off-rhythm to the bluegrass tunes that floated around the yard.

He'd suspected from the day that his father had invited the doctor and his daughter to their home that this was where everything was headed. He'd never seen his father so relaxed, so settled into himself, and so…happy. Neville had never gotten the feeling that his father wasn't happy, but he'd always seemed a little lonely, like there was a little piece of his soul that his children couldn't bring joy to no matter how hard they tried. But, from the moment Leonard McCoy came to them it had been different. Not only for their father. Neville would be the first to admit that they hadn't realized it, but they needed Leonard, or Papa, and Johanna just as much as their dad did. It hadn't taken long for the kids to decide they were meant to be a family and it was a joy to watch their fathers try to deny just how quickly and thoroughly they were falling in love. Exactly none of them had been surprised when their fathers had come home, sat them all down, and asked how they felt about becoming a family.

"Nice that you finally caught up," Kurt had snorted.

"We were just waiting on you two," JoJo agreed before jumping at them both and wrapping her arms around their necks. That had been the cue for the rest of them to pile onto the two laughing men and there hadn't been a day they'd been apart since.

"They're so in love," Clarice sighed when he sat down on the porch swing and pulled her down with him.

"They are," he agreed after a while watching the man who'd raised them both dance with such joy, pulling her bare feet into his lap and rubbing them gently, "Who let you into the champagne, little one?"

He'd called her little one since they both hit puberty and he began to tower over her. At first it had been to annoy her, but as they'd gotten older and realized that she wasn't going to grow any more than she already had it had become a loving nickname. Only he was allowed to use it, just as she was the only one allowed to call him giant.

"Nana said as long I didn't try to drive she wouldn't tell Daddy or Papa." Clarice yawned and laid her head on the pillow covered arm rest, closing her heavy eyes, asleep in seconds.

"And the sickness she will be treated to the next days will be more than enough to make her realize that the wine is not as glamourous as she would like to think."

Neville looked up at the woman he called grandmother and grinned, "You're a crafty one, Nana."

"Where do you think your uncle learned it from?" She asked with a wink, "I've always worried more about her than any of the rest of you when it comes to drink. Have a glass or two if you'd like, love. I trust you not to overindulge. Dance. Enjoy yourself. I'll watch over Clarice for a time."

"Thanks, Nana."

"Not at all, my darling," She smiled and they switched places, Frigga placing Clarice's feet in her own lap and settling herself comfortably, swinging a little as Neville smiled at them both. He turned to go into the yard and subsequently into the party and was stopped short when his grandmother grabbed his wrist gently and brought his palm to her lips.

"What is troubling you, my lamb?" she asked quietly, her wise eyes looking up at him through her lashes, "You have ever been able to talk to me, have you not?"

"I have," he agreed, looking out at the yard, at Jake, Jamie, and JoJo laughing brightly as Uncle Thor swung all of them from one mighty arm. He watched Aunt Pepper swoop in between the grooms to dance away with Pavel shrieking happily. He watched as she danced over to Uncle Tony with the baby and watched as they both pretended that no one else noticed when he pressed his hand gently to Pepper's belly where their own children were growing. He didn't want to know what it had taken to convince his attention hungry uncle to wait their own announcement until after the wedding. He chuckled a little to see Kurt with Amanda, the young woman Kurt had been crushing on for the better part of a year. He'd invited her to the wedding though they were both a little young to call it a date. They were happily dancing to the music, Amanda giggling at the way he integrated his teleportation powers into his dance moves. And Kurt, Kurt was grinning in a way he hadn't for quite a while. Neville was happy to see that the friendship that had the potential to blossom into romance a little later down the line was helping to bring Kurt out of his difficult angst-ridden pre-teen times. The whole house was feeling the relief.

"Then, talk to me now." Frigga brought him out of his focus on his family by pressing another kiss to his palm.

"Have I been that obvious?" He chuckled as he looked back at her.

He couldn't help the vision of a much older woman that super imposed itself over the beautiful woman who looked hundreds of years younger than she actually was. Instead of gorgeous blue eyes that held the wisdom of ages he saw eyes as green as his own. Instead of caramel hair loose and curled it was white and tied back in a severe bun. Instead of coral colored lips curled in a smile the lips were set in a permanent line by too much conflict and hardship in one lifetime. Instead of a flowing dress, sleeveless and the color of deepest emeralds, the clothing was a grey suit, conservatively cut and topped off by a ridiculous hat. It was the final image he had of the woman he barely remembered. That woman hadn't laughed, had only very rarely smiled, but she had shown him in dozens of different ways how much she loved him. He couldn't remember much of his life before Professor Xavier brought him to the Rogers house. But, one thing he did remember was her songs, singing him to sleep, little nursey rhymes, her voice strong and steady, despite her advanced years. He could remember the little lights and pretty pictures she used to draw on the ceiling with her wand for him while he was falling asleep. When he'd mentioned it to Uncle Loki, his uncle had taught him what he knew about wanded magic but it had all felt so limited and he'd learned to make the shapes and pictures just with the power of his mind to help himself fall asleep.

"Only to me, my lamb." Frigga assured him, "You haven't been settled as of late. Not quite as content as I'm used to seeing you. What is it? What is causing you such distress?"

"That's just it, Nana," He sat on the porch and leaned against her legs, allowing her to run her fingers through his hair as she'd done for so much of his life, "I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I just… Something is coming and I don't know what it is. It's like if I could just turn around fast enough the something I keep seeing out of the corner of my eye would be right in front of me. It's been building for some time now and I can only think that if I could just catch a glimpse." He sighed. "Of course, I could just be restless with graduation having just happened. I could just be uncomfortable because I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I just…maybe I'm imagining it all."

"You're not."

It was testament to how often his uncle appeared out of nowhere that he and Frigga didn't even flinch when suddenly Loki was right beside the porch swing. His clothing was bright, to reflect the happiness of the day, but his expression was dark.

"You are not imagining any of it, Neville." Loki said quietly, "Something has been building for years. Something that is about to come to a head. You feel it instinctively. I wish you'd said something sooner. We never trained that particular talent in you as you never informed me you'd been feeling anything at all."

"I didn't know what it was!" Neville protested.

"And one of the first things I taught you was to trust your intuition," Loki argued back.

"Boys!" Frigga chided softly, glaring at them when Clarice grumbled in her sleep, "Neville, your uncle is right, you should have told one of us. We could have saved you much concern over this. Loki, stop pestering him. There have been so many events in his life recently it's no wonder he mistook the sensation for other concerns."

Both he and Loki smiled at her angelically and she rolled her eyes.

"The last time the magic on this planet felt so corrupted was just after you were born, love," Frigga continued, looking down at Neville, "The magic itself was nearly screaming with the distortion of such darkness. We were just about to step in, as we always have when things have gotten so concerning on any world, when it suddenly ended. In a single moment the most concerning light was snuffed out. It has slowly been building itself back since. We could have interfered sooner, of course, but we have been distracted these past few years."

Neville turned his face to kiss Frigga's hand where it rested on his shoulder, knowing that the distraction was his family.

"Where is it centered?" He asked.

"You tell us," Loki knelt in front of him and put two fingers to his forehead, "Close your eyes and focus. Find where the magic pulses with darkness. Find where the evil spreads out."

Neville did as he was told, closing his eyes and finding the next level to the world as he had been taught so many years before. The magic around him, the magic he was used to and that he used to work greeted him like an old friend, reaching out to him, asking him to use it, caressing him with bright tendrils. He gently turned it away and followed it further with his mind's eye. And the further he went the darker it go until the magic was no more than a dark twisting mass full of pain and loneliness. He forced himself not to cry out, but felt the tears on his cheeks when he looked up.

"UK," he said, wiping his tears away, "It's centered in the UK. Where I'm from."

"Yes," Loki nodded, "Very good. I'm very proud of you. I know it's not easy. We'll work the skill until it becomes second nature." He pulled away and stood, leaning against the porch railing, looking at his mother and nephew, "There are small pockets of magic users all over Midgard. The community in The United Kingdom can get particularly…stiff-necked and are sometimes willfully blind. They like to think they are the oldest magic users in the universe and that their traditions are the only traditions worth anything." Loki rolled his eyes and Frigga and Neville laughed.

"We shouldn't allow them to get so out of control this time around," Frigga said quietly when they'd calmed.

"We shouldn't," Loki agreed, then set his hand on Neville's shoulders. Neville looked up at him in surprise then grinned when he realized that it was an invitation that his uncle was extending to join them while they made sure everything remained under control, as had been Asgard and her peoples' charge since nearly the dawn of time. He felt the pride swell in his heart and for the first time in months knew for certain what he wanted to do with his life, at least for a time. He only had one question for his uncle.

"When do we leave?"


	2. Chapter 2

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply.**

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"No."

"No."

Neville resisted the first urge that came to him and kept his mouth shut, even managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes though he did share a small smile with his Nana when she winked at him. They'd all known that the trip to the United Kingdom was going to be a hard sell when it came to his fathers, both so caring and protective when it came to their children. In fact, Uncle Loki had bet him the first revelation working, always a bastard to get the magic to cooperate on those because they were so boring, that the first word out of one or the other's mouth was going to be "No" without hearing anything else. He grinned at his uncle while Loki scowled. He'd bet that both of them would say it together. Apparently, he didn't hide his amusement well enough, because both of his parents were looking at him with scowls on their faces, a far cry from the smiles that had been on them all of the day before. Neville couldn't blame them, of course. His grandmother had recommended he wait until after they returned from their honeymoon to broach the topic of going into a potential dangerous situation, but he hadn't been able to wait, even though his uncle said that the situation could probably wait the ten days his parents would be gone.

"Dad, Papa…" he cleared his throat.

"Don't even start, Nev," his dad held up a hand, "I know you and I know you've probably written down bullet points of the very logical reasons you should be allowed to go, but…"

Neville quietly put the notebook paper he'd been about to unfold back into his pocket and looked at his dad, holding his papa's hand and, for just a moment, saw his parents and their thoughts as they were, written plainly across their faces. It would be so easy to think that they simply wanted to hold him back, that they weren't ready to let him leave the nest, but that wasn't it at all. What was on their faces, in their eyes, was fear. They were scared for him. They were his parents and they loved him and they were scared for him. And he couldn't blame them. He was kind of scared to be going himself. There was no telling what would happen in this new life that he was starting for himself. It was easy to see their fear, easy to understand it, but he couldn't allow himself to give into their fear or his own. He was a magic-user. One of the most powerful in the multiverse, according to his uncle and Stephen Strange, who'd tutored him in multi-verse magic, and he had a responsibility to the magic he accessed most often and to the people of his world to use it responsibly and correct those who weren't doing the same.

He reached out to his parents and waited for each of them to take one of his hands, "Dad," He smiled at Steve who tried to smile back. "Papa," He smiled at Leonard who scowled at him then looked down, "I think we've all known that I wasn't going to be one for school. I feel like this is maybe what I need to be doing with my life. Dad, you've taught me all my life that those who have power are supposed to use to help those who don't. Whether helping them means going out to fight the monsters, raising the kids no one else wants, or taking care of the health of a small town." They both chuckled a little at that and they were finally both looking at him again. "This is what I can do to help. I have the power and I want to use it."

He could see that they were giving in and knew that they were going to let him go, and couldn't help but add brightly, "And, Uncle Loki will be with me the whole time!"

"God, like that's supposed to help," Leonard grumped and pulled his hand away, throwing it up in the air. Steve snorted, trying to keep his laughter in.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends, Leonard," Loki smirked over his coffee mug and lifted it in salute when Len simply threw him the bird.

"Len," Steve said softly, looking into his new husband's eyes, "We can't hold him back."

"You think I don't know that?" Len stood and stalked over to the window, "I just…"

"I know," Steve moved to him and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, placing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

"Neville," Len didn't look at him, but Neville didn't mind. He knew that his Papa had a hard time showing his strong emotions, "I'm worried for you, son. I just got you and now you're going off to start your own life. A dangerous life, by all accounts. And that's hard for me. And it's going to be hard for your brothers and sisters, having you gone. I, uh…I want you to be careful and you call us if you need us. We'll come. You know that?"

"Of course I know that, Papa." Neville could feel the tears he wouldn't let fall slicking his throat.

"Norns, save us all from Midgardian drama," Loki drawled, bringing all three of them out of their moment. Neville turned a glare on his uncle, but all his uncle did was roll his eyes, "You're all acting as if this is the last time you'll see each other. Between Neville and I the situation should be brought to heel shortly. We'll probably be back before your honeymoon trip is over. You can trust me."

"Brother, I'm letting you take my oldest son into a potentially life-threatening situation. If there's anything else that would prove to you that I trust you I can't think of what it might be," Steve snapped before turning back to his husband.

Neville watched a happy shock cross his uncle's face before he carefully schooled his expression back into boredom, "Fair point…brother. I'll just…see that The Trio isn't going to burn down the house. Neville, let me know when you're ready to leave."

When Loki was out of the room, Neville stood up and walked over to his fathers. Steve pulled away from Leonard and opened his arms so that he could wrap them around Neville's leaner frame. Neville was too tall to really snuggle into his father the way he had when he was younger, but he laid his head on the broad shoulder and held on, letting himself feel comforted and as young as he was. It was only made better when Len moved in behind them and wrapped his arms around them both.

"It's going to be fine," He whispered to his parents.

"Of course it is," Leonard agreed, "You're smarter than me."

"Stronger than me," Steve put in, "And you know how to do things that neither of us can understand in the slightest. Be careful as you leave us, Nev. Take care of yourself. And your uncle."

"And for God's sake, keep your guard up on your left side," Leonard swiped a hand over Neville's messy hair, mussing it a little more, "You're still dropping it whether you're sparring with fists or magic."

"I'll keep that in mind, Papa."

"Say goodbye to your brothers and sisters before you go. We love you, son."

"I love you both, too."

He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he walked out of the kitchen and saw that his uncle had already packed him a bag. He rolled his eyes at the drama of the old-fashioned suitcase that Loki has chosen and moved into the living room where his Nana and Pavel were playing with a matching game that the baby was so much better at then a child his age should be. He smiled his little gummy smile and reached up his hands for Neville.

"I've got to go now, little one," Neville swooped him up and kissed his chubby cheek before settling him on his hip and nuzzling his sweet-smelling hair, "I've got work to do. But, I'll be back soon. Maybe bring you a new puzzle, hmm?" The baby just leaned into him for a moment and patted his unshaven face.

"Be brave and true, my lamb," Frigga kissed him and held him close for just a moment, "Call upon me if you need me and come home to us all soon."

He allowed himself to cling to his grandmother for just a moment before he handed the baby off to her with a final kiss and moved out of the room to find The Trio sitting at the bottom of the stairs in a line, none of them moving an inch, which was unusual enough in and of itself, but it was their expressions that stopped him in his tracks. All of them were happy children by nature and the fact that not a single one of them was smiling was heartbreaking to him. He knelt in front of them and wrapped them all up in his arms. Jake and JoJo buried their faces against either side of his neck and Jamie pressed against his chest.

"You've always been here," Jake whimpered.

"Who's going to make popcorn balls at Christmas?" Jamie asked.

"And we're right in the middle of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. No one does the voices like you." JoJo sniffled.

"Hey now!" He pushed them all back gently to look at them. JoJo and Jake weren't hiding their tears and though Jamie wasn't crying he still looked miserable, "It's not like I'm going to be gone forever. I'll be back a long time before Christmas and, how about this, every night I can I'll get in contact with you using the mirror in your room and we'll read another chapter. Hmm? How does that sound? And when I come back I'll bring you all something fun?"

"I want a snow globe," Jake whispered, miserably, "With the London Eye."

"You got it. JoJo?"

"A snow globe with the London Tower?"

"Absolutely. How about you, Jamie? A snow globe?"

"Yes," Jamie nodded, "With Buckingham Palace?"

"Of course. And anything else I find that reminds me of you three while I'm gone. I'm trusting you all to be good for Nana while Dad and Papa are gone. No craziness, okay? She's only one person."

After a couple more tearful hugs he sent them upstairs to their rooms, knowing that he couldn't get away from the last two goodbyes and dreading them awfully. The brother and sister he had known for the longest, who had been in his heart for the longest were yet to come. He sighed and moved toward the door, picking up his suitcase as he went. As he walked out of the door he had to stop short at the sight of his brother and sister on the porch. Clarice was leaning against the railing and Kurt was perched on it. Clarice had long, wide box in her hands that she held out to him as he approached. Kurt was smiling, letting his fangs show, and Clarice was smirking.

"Waterlogged?" She asked.

"Entirely," He answered, moving to them and leaning on the banister himself, "You two planning on crying all over me, too?"

"Hell no!" Kurt grinned, "Glad to be getting rid of you, more like!"

They all laughed for a minute then stood in companionable silence, simply breathing each other in. In their silence he heard more than he heard in his parents' worries, more than he heard in The Trio's noisy tears and his grandmother's quiet well-wishes. In their silence he hear their concern and in their silence he heard their love. And he could feel nothing but love in return.

"We knew that you'd be leaving sooner or later," Clarice said after a few minutes, "So we bought something for you."

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah," Kurt affirmed, "Miss Mary Elizabeth ordered it special for you when we told her what we had in mind."

"We figured you'd appreciate the drama," Clarice said, "I mean, Uncle Loki does the fitted suits and scarves."

"That douche Strange has his weirdo cloak." Kurt rolled his eyes. Stephen Strange hadn't made much of an impression on him the few times he'd visited, treating Steve and all of his children as if he was below them until Neville had mastered and surpassed him in dimensional magic four lessons in. He'd bowed out gracefully from being Neville's teacher after that and treated them much better when he was leaving than when he'd come. He'd even apologized to all of them before he'd left but Kurt was the kind to hold a grudge.

"We figured you needed something dramatic that people will remember." Clarice finished.

Neville gasped and tore the package out of her hands before he began ripping it open, marveling at the gorgeous ankle-length coat he pulled out of it, "You guys got me a fucking Belstaff Milford," He sighed as he slipped it on, "God, it's gorgeous."

"Need a room, Nev?" Kurt asked, trying to hide how pleased he was with Neville's reaction.

"Thank you both so much!" He grabbed them both and pulled them close, "I'll see you both soon, yeah?"

"Better," Clarice whispered, "I'll miss you, my giant."

"I'll miss you, too, little one," he kissed her hair, "And you, Nightcrawler."

Kurt huffed, but he squeezed tight for just a moment before he disappeared from Neville's arms in a puff of foul smoke.

"I got him," Clarice pulled away with a smile and a roll of her eyes, "Boys and their emotional constipation. Be safe, Nev." With that she disappeared into one of her black holes that had appeared behind her.

"Don't you look stunning?" Loki grinned as he stepped out of the house, "Very dramatic. It will definitely make an impression. Might I suggest just one minor alteration?" He stepped up to Neville and popped the collar of the coat up. Neville grinned at him.

"Now," Loki cleared his throat, "To work. Close your eyes and follow the magic again. Find us the source. Or the most powerful source if there is more than one."

Neville did as he was told, trying to soothe the hurting magic when he found it, until he found a bright light surrounded by the dark, the dark trying to smother it out.

"Seems like as good a place to start as any," Loki whispered in his ear, "Take us there."

Neville waited until he felt his uncle put a hand on his shoulder and then pushed toward the power signal. The sensation of travelling without moving lasted only a moment and when he opened his eyes again it was to three people sitting around a table. A rather shocked looking redhead with food falling out of his open mouth, a lovely young woman with rather unfortunate hair tied behind her head in a bushy tail and the most stunning young man he'd ever seen. He felt like he could fall into the gorgeous eyes looking back at him.

And then the young man spoke.

"Who the hell are you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply.**

 **A/N: Thanks for waiting on this. Neville's story...in fact all of the kids' stories...will not be overly long. I anticipate 2 or 3 more chapters for this and then we will move on to Clarice. See the end of the chapter if you want to see how the pairings have evolved as I thought through them more. Opinions and suggestions are always welcome! :)**

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The ginger, Ron, would not stop staring at him. At least he'd down-graded the look from distrustful glares the past few days and replaced them with something that looked like a confused curiosity. Even though they'd all been travelling together for the better part of a fortnight Neville had yet to find any common ground that would lead to the young wizard trusting him. It didn't seem to help matters that the wizard in question seemed to have a major trust issues that he covered with a major attitude problem anyway. Neville was trying to be understanding. The three people he and Loki had found in the tent that day were on edge, exhausted, and discouraged. They'd been looking for the horcruxes created by the dark wizard that was causing so much obscurity in the magic of the world for months with very little success. They'd fractured and come together again broken, but stronger. For so long it had only been the three of them, searching, trying, hoping that those they loved would still be alive when it was all over. It was no wonder that Ron found it hard to trust two people who appeared so suddenly, especially when one had previously attacked and tried to bring the planet under his control. It was why Loki had only stayed with them a very short time before leaving to research. For Harry, Ron, and Hermione who his uncle had once been had triggered thoughts and memories of this…Lord Voldemort that they were fighting. They hadn't been raised with the gentle, loving, confused man that Neville had known so much of his life.

"Guard your heart, nephew," Loki had whispered as embraced him before he left.

"My heart?" Neville had snorted in laughter, "As if that's an issue."

"Ah, but Neville," His uncle had grinned the grin that made him look like a shark, the one that he only used now when he was certain he was right, "When have you ever been able to lie to me?"

"I…" Neville hadn't been able to deny it when his uncle's eyes slid over to the young man with the ancient eyes sitting at the table, trying to hide the fact that he was watching them both.

"So much like your father," Loki had grinned and cupped his face in his hands, "Knowing whom you want the instant you lay eyes on him. But, again, nephew, guard your heart. There is a war on and he at the center of it somehow."

"You think I don't see that, Uncle?" Neville had asked softly.

"I think you will willfully blind yourself to it," Loki answered honestly, "If you fall for him."

"Well, it's simple then," He'd answered flippantly, "I just won't fall for him."

He should have known better than to say the words. It was like daring fate. And fate had responded. Because every time he'd looked into those green eyes, seen the heartbreak and the strength they contained, he hadn't been able to help but fall a little deeper. There had been so many nights that they had been the last two awake as Ron and Hermione had laid next to each other in the bed, facing each other, yet never touching and they had talked. For hours, for what felt like days. Harry had opened his heart to Neville, confessed things to him in a way that can only be confessed when you don't have the burden of expectation from a years long friendship making it impossible to seem weak, to seem vulnerable. Harry had practically been begging for a companion without judgement and Neville was happy to be that for him. There were times when all he wanted to do was take Harry in his arms, kiss him gently, and hold him while whispering to him that he did deserve happiness, that nothing in his crap life had been his fault. Sometimes when Harry looked at him he could almost see his feelings reflected in those startling green eyes, but he'd known enough men who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. Harry wouldn't want to allow himself to have something good until the bad was resolved.

He couldn't handle Ron's staring any longer. But, just to annoy him he winked before he got up from the table. It always made Ron splutter and redden in the face in a way that made Neville laugh when he acted flirtatious with him. He knew Ron didn't have anything against him or his sexuality, but Ron was as straight as they came, and in love with Hermione though he wouldn't admit, and he always felt the need to keep up appearances. Just to see the red go all the way up to his ears he blew the ginger a kiss before he stepped out of the tent and into the winter cold. It was a cold that they didn't have in Colorado. More wet, less biting. Just the tiniest dusting of snow. He breathed it in deep. There was something about it that just felt so familiar and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat and began to walk. They moved around every other day or so, and when they'd first got to their current location he'd found a tree that reminded him of one that he'd climbed for years in the woods behind his house. It reminded him of home.

He felt a poignant wave of homesickness travel through him as he sat at the base of the tree and closed his eyes. The moment he let himself see the magic that surrounded him it greeted him like an old friend, caressing his cheek and asking him to work with it. He could feel the smile spread across his face as he requested that the magic surrounding him protect him on his travels. With an affirmative feeling from it he let his conscious drift as Dr. Strange had once taught him to, allowed his mind and a projection of his body to travel miles, across the ocean and to where his family home. They were sleeping, of course. It wouldn't do to let The Trio see him awake if he wasn't able to spend any time with them. He'd read with them just a couple of days before, but they always begged him to extend their time together. Jamie was on his back, stationary on his bed, sleeping like the dead as he always did. JoJo was curled in the middle of her bed like a cat. And Jake was spread out like a starfish. He smiled and made himself just corporeal enough to press kisses to their foreheads before he moved on. Pasha was sleeping sweetly in his crib. Clarice had fallen asleep studying at her desk. He pulled a blanket up around her shoulders. Kurt's light was on and he was reading the latest copy of some business magazine that Aunt Pepper and Uncle Tony were on the front of.

"To sleep, Nightcrawler," Neville whispered in his ear and turned off the lamp clipped to the side of his bed.

Kurt had almost been asleep anyway, so he just yawned and rolled over, whispering a goodnight to Neville. Neville pushed a lock of hair out of his face and took himself down to the kitchen. His dads were next to each other at the sink, washing dishes. They weren't saying anything, but every once in a while, one of them would run a finger down the other's arm or bump their hips together so that they both smiled, just keeping them connected. He wanted a love like they'd found, where they simply fit together, no matter how long, or not, they'd known each other. And something in him was saying that Harry was going to be it for him.

"Were you going to say something, or just going to lurk, son?" Steve asked after a minute.

"Jesus!" Len turned around, a hand to his heart, "How the...How did you? And how is he?"

"There's a smell, like lightning," Steve said quietly, "When he's projecting. And he can do it because he's just that good." He grinned at his son.

Neville grinned back.

"Powerful," Len agreed, a small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He sniffed the air and nodded to himself, as if confirming what Steve had just said. Neville knew he'd never be able to sneak up on his Papa ever again. At least not that way.

"Is this a pleasure visit, Nev?" His dad asked, "Or do you need us?"

Neville only just realized how tense both of his fathers were and held up his hands in a placating gesture, "I just missed everyone. Wanted to see you all."

His dads relaxed and turned back to the dishes as Neville sat his projection on the counter next to them.

"How goes the search?" Len asked.

"Okay…" Neville sighed, "I've located three possible patches of dark magic. I want to bring them to us so that we can destroy them safely. The others have already proved that the sword they carry around with them will destroy these things."

"But?" Len prompted.

"I've never seen anything like this," Neville admitted, running a hand through his hair, "It's…the patches of darkness…the wizard has separated them from his own soul, literally, and imbued the objects with them. The dark magic that surrounds them fights me on every turn. I'm working it out and, given enough time, I know I could bring them to me, but the others…Ron especially, they lack patience. I know that those they love are suffering at the school they attend. And I know their world feels like it's falling apart, but if they could just…what?" He looked over to see both of his father's grinning at him.

"You've grown so much, Nev," Steve said gently, "In just the few weeks you've been away from us. They lack patience…" He chuckled softly and let his hand drift over to where Neville's projection sat, running his hand just over his head. If Neville concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of his skin.

"What does your uncle say?" Len asked.

"Not much," Neville admitted, trying not to be too embarrassed by his parents' pride, "He's doing his own research on Asgard. The others aren't quite comfortable with him around."

"Who is?" Len muttered and made a sound of displeasure from the back of his throat when Steve reached over fast as a snake and smacked the flat of his hand against his husband's stomach.

Neville laughed and then sighed, "I should probably be getting back."

"You call us if you need us, son," Len said, suddenly serious, "You know your nana can have us all there in a heartbeat."

"I know," Neville smiled at them, suddenly overcome with affection for his whole family, "I love you all."

"We love you, too, son." Steve set a hand over his heart, "Stay safe."

Neville pulled his projection back to his body and felt the lingering smile on his lips before he opened his eyes to see Harry looking down at him, his head tilted to the side, a question in his eyes.

"Where do you go when you do that?" He verbalized the question, "And how do you keep yourself safe? I could be anyone."

"The light magic wouldn't have let you near me if you were a threat," Neville smiled at the confusion in Harry's eyes. There was so much he wanted to share with him, so much he yearned to be able to show him.

"The light magic," Harry murmured, "You know, some day, when we're not all trying to save the world from a maniac you're going to have to show me what you mean."

"I will," For Neville, it was a promise, "As for where I go…I missed my family. I was just checking on them. Had a short talk with my dads. Tucked my little brother in. Things like that."

"You haven't spoken about your family to me yet." Harry sat next to him and leaned against his side and Neville didn't protest. He didn't even think about it when he wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder. It was winter and cold, it was only natural to share body heat when they were sitting outside.

"My family…" Neville laughed, "They're chaos and energy and I love them all so much."

Once was the dam was opened he found he couldn't stop. He wanted Harry to know his family, to love them as he did. He described Pasha's sweetness and the intelligence they all knew was just waiting to surprise them. He told Harry of The Trio and their legendary ability to get in trouble, even before they were The Trio. He told him about Jake's vulnerability, Jamie's confidence, and JoJo's struggle with her physical mutation. He told Harry about his Nightcrawler and his Little One, the first in his heart and the ones who made him believe he could trust Steve Rogers to love him and take care of him. He told Harry things he'd never told anyone else, like how his father had come into his room before his Uncle and Nana had come to them to train him, how Steve had held him, assuming he was asleep, and begged him and God, to heal him, to keep him safe. He told Harry how relieved he'd been when his father had fallen in love because now he had someone else to help shoulder the burden of worry. He told Harry about his Papa's wounded heart, how sometimes he looked at him and could almost see the bleeding wounds that were closing and healing the longer he had his true family around him. He laughed when he told Harry about the animosity between his Papa and his Uncle, though they would never admit that they truly liked each other.

And he told Harry about the heartbreak all of the Rogers children experienced in that none of them knew who they really were, no one of them knew where they'd come from, save for JoJo, who still struggled with what her mother had made her feel about herself. For the rest of them, save him, were they experiments? Had they been birthed or grown in a lab? Though he knew that he'd been born, that he'd had family before Steve Rogers, no one had ever come to claim him, to claim the beautiful, stately older woman he'd been found in the hotel room with. He tried to make Harry understand how much he loved his family, but how much it still hurt not to know where he'd come from.

"Neville," Harry turned slightly and set his fingers to Neville's lips to stop his words, "I…I understand. As much as I love my friends, the family I've found now…I can't help but wonder what it would have been like. What if I wasn't The Boy Who Lived? What if Voldemort had never existed? What if I had my family instead of having to save everyone else's family? I just…I never asked for the burden…I never asked to be chosen. All I want is…a normal life." Neville could see the shame in his eyes as he admitted it and he couldn't stand to see it.

"Harry," He shifted on his hip and cupped Harry's face with his hand, the cold a shock to his skin. Harry set a hand over the one on his face and closed his eyes. "Harry," He repeated, "When all of this is over, if it's still what you want, I'll take you away for a while. You can come home with me to the mountains, to my dads…my family. We can give you normal for a while. As normal as we get, anyway. Rest, affection, entirely too many people in one house who are always in your business in the most loving way possible."

"That sounds perfect," Neville could see how much of a struggle the words were to get around the hope that was rising in him, a hope that he didn't want to admit to in case it was snatched away, "Neville…I…" The single tear Harry allowed to slip from his broke Neville's resolve to let Harry make the first move.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured and leaned in, stopping just a hair's breath away from Harry's lips until they were breathing the same air. Both of their eyes fluttered closed just as their lips touched for the first time.

Neville had kissed people before. Not many, and not out of passion on his side. More out of curiosity. It had never felt more than…wet…a little awkward. But, with Harry he finally understood why so many people said that kissing was wonderful, why he caught his dads so often, not necessarily in the throes of passion, but simply touching their lips together, sharing breath. He'd never felt more connected to another person. He tore himself away for just a moment when Harry threw his leg over and was suddenly straddling him. And then they were connected again and he knew that he would never love anyone the way he loved Harry as they shared their second kiss.

Harry was the one to tear away when they heard Ron calling for them. He sounded different, almost…excited. Harry pressed a final, chaste kiss to Neville's lips and then stood, straightening his cloak and clothing, not bothering to try to straighten his hair, which wouldn't have done any good. His dazzling smile as he held out his hand to Neville took his breath away and he took the offered hand, more pleased than he could say when Harry kept hold of him as they made their way back to the tent.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked when his best friend didn't seem inclined to share, too focused on their joined hands.

"I figured out where I know Neville from," Ron finally said. He held out a picture that had seen better days, curled in at the edges. Neville took it, somehow knowing that this one picture would change everything. He looked down at it and his eyes were immediately drawn to two faces that he could see his own in. His chin, her nose, his grin, her eyes.

"You're almost as famous as Harry, mate." Ron said, uncharacteristically gentle, "You're the lost Longbottom Heir."

* * *

 **A/N: Pairings: Neville/Harry (Harry Potter/Harry Potter)**

 **Clarice/Eggsy/Tilde *endgame (X-men/Kingsman/Kingsman) Clarice/OC temporarily**

 **Kurt/Roxy (X-Men/Kingsman)**

 **Jamie/Penelope (Avengers - Clone of the Winter Soldier/Criminal Minds)**

 **Jake/Cougar (Losers - Clone of Captain America/Losers)**

 **Johanna/One of the Winchesters (Star Trek/Supernatural) Which Winchester I could use some help on, as**

 **I can see her with either.**

 **Pavel/Sulu (Star Trek/Star Trek)**


	4. Chapter 4

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply.**

 **A/N: I am not super happy with this, but if I don't post it I might never do it. Please let me know what you think.**

 **Trigger Warning: Mention of past child abuse to a primary character by a secondary character. Punishment of secondary character by another by the removing on a tongue.**

* * *

"Neville," He could hear the whisper from behind him, but he couldn't find the words to respond to his lover. They were trapped in a throat that had closed with the unexpected emotion rising in his chest as he viewed the couple in front of him. Frank and Alice Longbottom were sleeping fitfully in separate beds. They were in nearly identical dressing gowns and the space between their beds was only wide enough to have a single chair between them, as if allowing the beds' occupants to reach out and touch each other if they had the inclination. From what Neville had seen when he cast the simple spell to look into their pasts, they didn't even have the awareness any longer to reach out to each other. The fact that they were sleeping at all seemed to be something of a minor miracle. That he could see himself even clearer in their faces, aged before their time by violence and the ensuing madness, when he was in the room with them made him, more than anything, want his Dad with there with him so he could hide in his strong arms and pretend he'd never learned this heartbreaking truth about his biological parents.

He'd been too old when he was adopted to ever know he was anything but, yet he had never struggled with it. Steven Rogers was his father in every way. Steve was the one who sat by his bedside when he was ill, who celebrated his every accomplishment, who had always been the one to pick him up when he fell. Steve Rogers was the one who had taught him how to be tough, yet kind, how to forgive, how to love. Steve was his Dad. And, even finding out where he came from, would never change that. And right then he wanted him more than anything. Because, these were his parents. They'd given birth to him and, from what he'd been told, they had loved him more than anything. It was strange that he could see himself in them, and mourn them in a kind of distant way, but he was more distraught that he could look at them and really, truly not feel much aside from the horror at their conditions and the anger that magic had been manipulated to do something it naturally would never do.

"I…" He tried to force the words out of his throat and found them still trapped, so instead he whirled around and leaned over to press his forehead to Harry's.

 _I'm a terrible person,_ he said quietly, directly into Harry's mind. He kept his eyes closed tightly, afraid of what he would see reflected in Harry's own.

"Why is that?" Harry whispered aloud. Neville shook away the thought that he wanted to teach Harry to be able to project directly into his mind as well.

 _I…You never knew your parents, Harry, but you miss them every day. You'd give anything to see them. And I…I have my parents right in front of me and the only thing I feel is…well, it's…I…can't feel…_

"Neville," Harry said quietly, but firmly, "Look at me, love." Neville opened his eyes and was so relieved to see the love still in Harry's eyes that his knees almost went weak. Harry looked at him for a minute before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Neville, love," Harry finally said, "You had family who loved you and cared for you from the start. Your grandmother and then your father and brothers and sister. You've always known love. That's the difference. I was never seen as anything more than a burden. A horrid, wicked burden at that." He laughed quietly and Neville couldn't help but laugh with him.

"You were never a burden, Harry. You never could have been."

"Oh, I was at times," Harry murmured, "My point it…All my life I dreamed of those who would love me. You didn't have to. You already had them. That's the difference. Loving those who have always loved you is not something to be ashamed of. Appreciating the people who are in those beds, recognizing their sacrifice, that's what's important. You don't have to love them. I don't expect you to, and I'm sure if they were able to, they'd tell you the same thing."

"I love you," Neville whispered as he gathered Harry to him and buried his face in the juncture between Harry's neck and shoulder, hiding away from the world in his love's support and scent.

Harry just stroked his hair, letting himself be held, ignoring the fact that he had to stand on his toes to allow Neville to hold him like he was, "I love you, too."

They stood in the quiet for what felt like forever, just holding each other and breathing each other in, happy in the quiet. They'd told Ron and Hermione that they were going to be out for the afternoon, and had tried to pretend that they hadn't seen the eagerness on their friends' faces to be alone. It was hard when you had two couples living in close quarters trying to be thoughtful and not annoy the hell out of each other, no matter how much they wanted to tear the clothes off of their partners at any given time. Him and Harry admitting their feelings had led to Ron and Hermione doing the same and while most of the tension that had been prevalent in the tent prior to the admissions had dissipated, it led to another kind of tension between the couples that was frustrating all of them. While Neville would have liked to be able to take Harry to a hotel, peel off all his clothes, and let them have their way with each other, it was almost as satisfying to just be able to hold him in the quiet, no expectations, no pressing needs. It was nice to pretend that they were the only two in the world and that nothing bad was happening.

Standing there, breathing in Harry's scent, focused only on him, the something that had been in the back of his mind for weeks, digging into him at the most random moments, began to grow louder and louder. He'd never let it capture so much of his attention, but when he was finally focused on it, he realized it was the white magic that surrounded him trying to tell him something that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. He pulled back from Harry, his brow furrowed as he looked at his lover. Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

 _Just hold still…_ Neville murmured into his mind. Neville closed his eyes to the physical world to view the magic that surrounded him. It was moving in a way he'd never seen before, not white smooth swirls, but darting, almost glowing, as if agitated and with lightning within in. He almost heard his uncle's voice in his head, urging him to look deeper, not to shy away because of his feelings for Harry. Because something was off. Something had always been off and the magic had been trying to tell him, but he'd ignored it. He was carefully, so carefully sorting through the protective magics that swirled around Harry, and he was almost to his goal, he knew, when his concentration was shattered by the door to the room bursting open and slamming against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing in my nephew's room?!" The man roared. Neville stood up straighter in response to his yelling and forced himself not to push Harry behind him. He didn't need Neville's protection. He was strong in his own right. He noticed that Harry straightened up to his full height when he was being yelled at as well. Neither of them did well with people yelling at them, or trying to order them around.

"Since when did visiting a pair of war heroes to pay respect become a crime?" Harry asked quietly.

"And who the hell are you?" The man's volume and anger didn't lower at all and Neville could see the pair in the beds begin to shift uncomfortably. The last thing a pair of damaged individuals would need was the anger and volume the man in front of them was displaying. Neville flicked a hand and put up an invisible, soundproof barrier around them and felt, more than watched, them fall deeper asleep again.

"Harry Potter." Harry wasn't one to use his name to get anything, but he also wasn't above using it when need be.

"Potter…" That took the wind out of the man's sails and finally Neville got a good look at him. He was tall, like Neville, like the man in the bed, though not nearly as thin as either of them, more solid in muscle mass. His hair was still dark, but liberally striped with silver streaks. His face, even when he calmed, was red in a way that spoke of years of heavy drinking. His eyes were the same as the eyes of the man in picture that Ron had given Neville. A slip of a memory pushed its way into Neville's mind.

"Come on, boy," Neville couldn't stop himself from saying the words that came into his mind, "Do something. I'll drop you, I swear." He looked up at the man, "What kind of man hangs a seven-year-old out of a window and actually drops him for pie?"

"What?" The man's red face seemed to drain of all blood, and he took a step back, "What are you…How could you…How could you know about that?"

"Neville…sweetheart…" Harry put a hand on his arm.

"Neville?" The man, his great-uncle Algie, Neville finally remembered, stepped forward, reaching out a shaking hand to him. Neville took a step back. Algie looked back and forth between the two lying in the beds and Neville, looking at every curve of his face, everything that matched with the two who had been lost to him, "Bleeding Christ, it is you!"

"Algie?" He asked, uncertain.

"Bloody hell, boy, of course it's Algie!" The man was almost roaring again as he took another step forward, as if wanting to take Neville in his arms. Neville held up his hands and Algie was stopped in his tracks.

"How are you doing that without a wand?" He asked, struggling against the barrier, his face getting red again as Neville denied him what he wanted.

"I've trained for years in every magical style," Neville answered truthfully, "Wands and other magical artifacts are too limiting for me."

"Insulting what's been good enough for our family for thousands of years? Sounding like an American!" Algie really was back to roaring, "Who the hell raised you, boy? I'll kill them for not putting respect in you! And I'll kill that woman for taking you away, for almost killing the Longbottom line! Not that you didn't already do that yourself! Fucking faggot with Harry Potter, the golden child, no less! "

As Algie spoke the anger began to build in Neville. He'd never been an angry person, but the way the man he hardly knew was talking about him, about his family, about his grandmother, about Harry, was bringing up emotion in him that he couldn't control. And the angrier he got, the more things came back to him. Algie had been drinking more and more since Frank and Alice had been taken to St. Mungo's and nothing was able to be done for them. He'd always been a strict man, speaking to Frank as if he was his father instead of his uncle when his brother died, telling Frank that it would be up to him to continue the family name, that their name was everything and that Algie would rather see him dead than see him shame their illustrious name. He'd been the same way with Neville, but as it became obvious that Neville was going to be the last chance for the Longbottom line stern teaching and words had turned into abuse. Neville ate too much? A whipping. Neville didn't do well on a spelling test in his primary school? No food or water for two days. Neville attempted to stand up for himself? A punch to the ribs. Never anywhere someone would see. Enid and Augusta tried to keep him safe, but they were as much Algie's victims as he was.

On their final night, Algie had thrown him across the room, breaking his arms and giving him a concussion, before he hung him out the window, threating to kill him if he didn't show some kind of magical skill, while Augusta, his sister-in-law, and Enid, his own wife, begged him to bring Neville back in, tried to explain that Augusta had put a power draining spell on him because his power was hurting him, that he wasn't powerless, that he wouldn't shame the family name. But, Algie had been too drunk to hear what they were trying to tell him and it was only when, out of desperation, Enid had conjured some of his favorite pie from the kitchen into her hand, that he'd calmed at all. Calmed just enough to drop Neville. Luckily, he was still powerful enough that all that happened was that he'd landed harmlessly on the ground, even bouncing a little. As soon as Algie had passed out Augusta and Enid had torn through the house like whirlwinds, putting together bags for Augusta and Neville. Casting spells of protection and to keep them from being tracked. They'd left in the dead of night. Because Augusta and Enid had known. Were Neville to stay there eventually Algie would kill him. A flash of Enid's broken body, from Algie's memories, was suddenly in Neville's mind and he knew that his uncle had killed her in a rage. His grandmother taking him away was the only thing that had saved his life.

"The Longbottom line is dead!" Neville said quietly, his voice cold as ice. He wasn't even trying to control it as a wind came up around him. If he had been better in his mind he would have noticed that Harry and his parents were spared from his wrath and untouched by the wind or the things it was picking up, "I am Neville Rogers-McCoy! Son of Steven Rogers and Leonard McCoy. Trained by Loki Oddinsson and Frigga, the All-Mother. I am more powerful than you will ever hope to be you pathetic, bigoted, old man. And all of the pain that you visited upon me, upon my grandmother, upon your wife, I will visit upon you tenfold!"

"That is quite enough, nephew." Loki's bored voice had Neville whipping his head toward the back of the room where Loki stood, leaning against the wall, looking as relaxed as Neville had ever seen him, in his Asgardian leathers.

"Uncle, he…" Neville howled, his voice like a wounded animal.

"I know what he did," Loki said, approaching Neville slowly, his hands held out placatingly. He was not a stupid man. He knew that his nephew was more powerful than he could ever hope to be, "But, he will be the last of his line. That is punishment enough. Let it die. And let him die knowing it. We do not visit our anger on others, even when they deserve it." The wind was down to a breeze by the time Loki had put his arms around Neville, "I know better than most that it does not give you the satisfaction you seek."

"Uncle!" Neville fell into Loki's arms, sobbing. Loki pressed a gentle kiss of Neville's forehead and whispered a word that had him asleep in seconds so that Loki could sweep him up in his arms.

"I'm going to take him home, Harry Potter," Loki said quietly, stroking Neville's hair gently, "He needs his family now. Would you like to join us or would you like me to send you back to your friends? Neville will return when he's able."

"I…" Harry looked like the only thing he wanted was to be with Neville, but he knew what was at stake, "Send me back to them. When he's ready tell him to find us again. And…tell him I love him?"

"Of course." Loki flicked his wrist and Harry was gone. Then he turned to the man on his knees in the middle of the floor, his mouth open with shock.

"You will die alone, Algie Longbottom, knowing that you might have had your precious family name continue if only you had been a decent human. But now, because of you and you alone, it will die. And you, you will never be able to speak a word against my nephew again."

Loki didn't even bat an eye at the shriek of disbelief that came from the man's mouth when he realized that his tongue had been removed as he and Neville disappeared from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply**

* * *

The first thing he noticed as he came awake slowly was that he was in his own bed. He knew because he was more comfortable than he'd been in weeks. As nice as the accommodations were in the tent that Hermione had put together, especially for, essentially, camping, there was nothing like his bed at home, made as comfortable as he could both with the expensive mattress he'd gotten as a sixteenth birthday gift and magic. There was nothing like the sounds of his home. The Trio making more racket than they normally would simply because they were trying to be quiet, Papa shushing them gently with his southern drawl, Pavel babbling away to himself. He sighed contentedly and rolled onto his side, hugging his pillow close to his chest. He'd almost let himself fall back into sleep when he finally noticed that someone was running a gentle hand through his hair. There was only one person he knew who did that, and only when he was sick or had had a terrible day. So…it hadn't been a dream like he'd been hoping in the back of his mind.

"I lost control, Dad," He murmured, without opening his eyes, "Uncle Loki had to stop me. I would have killed him."

"From what your uncle says," Steve's voice was soft and gentle, "He would have deserved it."

"I was just so angry," Neville admitted, "I finally find out about my life before this…and it was complete crap. I wanted to make him feel how scared he'd made me feel as a kid, how scared my grandmother was, how scared his wife must have been."

"That's human, Nev."

Neville felt the tears leaking out of his closed eyes when his dad laid down in the bed next to him and pulled him into his arms. In some ways Neville felt like he was much too old for his dad to be laying in the bed with him, but in other ways he was grateful. Because, as much as he'd grown in the time away from his family, in many ways at that moment he was feeling very, very young. He gripped his dad's shirt, leaned his forehead against his strong chest, and let himself cry. His dad didn't say anything, just held him and weathered the storm, which he was grateful for. When he'd finally let the grief go, the fear that he hadn't yet been able to speak began to rise in him. It closed his throat, so that when he was finally able to give voice to it the words came out in barely a whisper.

"What if that's who I am, too?" He asked, "What if my reaction to him is how I react when I get angry? What if I'm just like him?"

"Neville," Steve wrapped him up tighter for a moment and then straightened his arms so that he could look into his eyes. Neville breathed easier when he could see the look on his father's face. Steven Rogers had never lied to any of his children and he never would. Whatever his father told him would be the truth and Neville would trust it, because he'd trusted Steve all his life long and he wasn't going to stop now. "You are nothing like that man. You are kind and good hearted. You are my son and I know you. You had a shock that you weren't prepared for and you lost control. That doesn't mean that you are anything like that man. You are the young man I raised, the one with endless patience for your brothers and sisters, the one who always has a smile for them and the one who takes care of all of them because you like to do it. You are the man I am so proud to call my son and you always will be."

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, son." Steve placed an unironic kiss to Neville's forehead as if he was still eight years old and had just had a nightmare, "Now, why don't you come downstairs and have breakfast with us before the hoard has to head out to school. Then, you can spend the day with the baby before you get ready to head back."

"You trust me to go back?" Neville asked, shocked.

"Nev, when the Rogers-McCoy's start something we finish it." There was steel in his voice before teasing entered it, "And I'm not crazy enough to try to keep you from your best guy."

Neville blushed slightly as he took the hand that Steve offered to help him up. He was glad that his dad was there when the dizziness overtook him as he stood. He'd used more power than he thought when lost control and his body was reacting to it predictably. It would be a while before he would be able to access that much again comfortably. He had to give his overstimulated body time to recover. Steve caught him by the elbows so that he couldn't collapse and helped him down the stairs.

"Neville!" The chorus of his name did the rest of the work that his father's assurances couldn't to lift his spirits. It was one thing to talk to his family or read to siblings through a mirror or through projection. It was entirely different when they were in front of him. He lowered himself to one knee and opened his arms to The Trio, all three of whom threw themselves in his arms. They snuggled up to him, all talking at the same time, trying to ask him about where he'd been and what he'd been doing even as they tried to fill him in on what they'd been doing and everything that had caught their attention in the time that he'd been gone, which was a lot. He let their chatter wash over him like a soothing wave, only catching bits and pieces of it, but knowing for the three of them it was more about getting it out than having him respond to him. While they were talking, he cataloged the differences in them. Jamie had put on another couple of inches, which Neville was certain he lorded over the other two since they had all been the same height before. There was a light smattering of freckles just under JoJo's eyes and over the bridge of her nose that were darker than he remembered, but flattered her sweet face. Jake was wearing glasses that he hadn't had before and Neville knew it had to be a style choice because he had perfect vision, just like Steve, but the glasses looked great and him and if they made him feel good Neville was all for it.

"You guys been keeping out of trouble?" He asked when they all took a breath at the same time.

"Of course not," Steve answered, "But, we've only had three trips to the school and none for fighting in the last month. They're getting good at not getting caught."

The Trio grinned like it was something to be proud of and went back to the table to eat when Steve gently directed them to. Then, Clarice and Kurt were at his sides, helping him stand before they tucked themselves into his sides. He wrapped his arms around them and breathed them in for a second before he pressed a kiss to each of their heads. None of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable. After a moment Kurt began to squirm, so Neville rubbed a hand over his long hair just to annoy him, laughing at the disgusted noise Kurt made before he disappeared from Neville's side in a puff of smoke to go fix his hair in the bathroom. Clarice giggled before she wrapped him in a quick hug and made her way back to the table as well.

"Hey, Papa," Neville said quietly when he was faced with the man who had become his second father not too long before, but who had quickly become just as important to him as Steve.

"Son," Len's voice was gruff to hide the emotion that was swirling in his eyes. Neville took a step toward him and he legs unexpected buckled, but before he could fall Leonard caught him in his strong arms and hauled him into a tight hug, "Scared the hell out of me when Loki appeared in the house with you in his arms. Don't do that to me again, kid. My heart can only take so much."

"Sorry, Papa." Neville leaned into the hug and just let himself settle for a moment, breathing in the peace and power that seemed to surround Len McCoy like a cologne. They stayed that way until Pavel began to bang his cup on his highchair table.

"Nev, my turn!" His baby voice was clear and bright and he was smiling knowingly when Neville turned around, his mouth open with shock.

"Yeah," Len chuckled, "He does that now. Just started up one day. Now the trick is getting him to stop."

"Nev!" Pavel crossed his arms and pouted adorably, "My turn now!"

"Of course, Pasha," Neville smiled and made his way carefully over to his youngest brother before he sat in a chair next to him and took him out of the high chair to set him on his lap and hug him close.

"You sad?" Pasha asked after a moment of studying his eldest brother's face.

"A little," Neville admitted it.

"Kiss to make it better," Pasha declared before leaning over to press a kiss to Neville's cheek before he pulled back, giggling at the hair on Neville's face.

"That does make it better, Pasha, thanks." He was surprised, looking around at his family, the baby of them in his arms, that he really meant it.

Just as Steve had suggested Neville spent the day with Pasha. They played quiet games and napped together a couple of times, Neville rebuilding his magical stores and resetting his magical shields in place in the back of his mind all through the day, the actions having become second nature to him after doing it for so many years. By the time everyone else got home after work and school Neville was feeling much more stable, much stronger, but the magic was still feeling a little unsettled in him, a little uncomfortable. It was just like having rough fabric against a mostly healed wound. It didn't hurt, per se, but it was sensitive and uncomfortable.

He prepared dinner side by side with Clarice as they had done for years, needling each other teasingly about their love lives. He told her about Harry, about everything he loved about him, and admitted that he was pretty sure after everything was said and done, that he was going to bring him home to them, that he was pretty sure Harry was going to be it for him. If Clarice was surprised she didn't say anything. She teased him a little about falling so hard, so fast, but never tried to tell him that he was too young. She told him, rolling her eyes about the guys who thought that they were God's gift to women at school and how she'd put more than one of them into their place as need be. They'd laughed together like they hadn't been apart.

The last thing his spirit needed to settle was dinner around the big table with his family. It wasn't anything unusual. It was The Trio being told to sit still a dozen times, Kurt being told to get off his damn phone, Pavel giggling the laugh that made them all laugh in return, and his parents looking over the chaos to each other with nothing but love in their expressions. This was home, and he was as much a part of it as he'd ever been. Even the discovery of his past, what he might have done if Loki hadn't stopped him…none of that mattered here. Here he was brother and son. Here he was just Neville and always would be. He breathed it all in with a sigh and a smile and kept eating. It was when he saw Jake surrounding a meatball with plain spaghetti noodles that the something he'd been denying for weeks finally clicked in his head and his breath caught in his throat.

That was what was in Harry that Neville hadn't let himself see. The bright magic surrounding Harry, so much brighter than anything around it. Because it was trying to fight the darkness in Harry's core. The dark magic, the part of the soul that Voldemort had split to keep himself alive. He hadn't meant to do it, Neville was sure, but when he'd tried to kill Harry and Harry's mother's bright magic had fought back…and now…Now, the man would never be able to be killed. As long as that small part of his soul remained inside of Harry he could come back again and again just as he had before. Neville stood suddenly, his chair falling backward with a clatter.

"Son?" Steve asked.

"I figured it out," Neville whispered intensely, "And I need to get back to Harry, Dad. If he tries to fight…I have to go." Despite the pain Neville raised his hands and felt his magic swirl around him, changing him into clean clothes and his great coat, his armor that filled him with confidence. He looked at Steve, uncertain.

"Well, go!" It was Len who said it, surprising them both, "Your friends need you. Your guy needs you."

"Dad, Papa, this is going to come to a head soon. I might need…"

"You call on us if you need us." Steve nodded, "We'll get in touch with Asgard and the Avengers. You know how many people you have in your corner, Nev. Now Harry has them, too. That's what family does."

"And mine's the best," Neville grinned, "Be ready."

"Always," Len growled in a voice Neville had never heard. The Reaper voice. The Reaper who would protect what was his to his last breath. Neville nodded at his parents, flashed a grin and wink at his siblings, closed his eyes and focused on Harry. And was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply**

 **A/N: I changed the final battle from The Deathly Hallows. Instead of two major attacks, there is only one, and Snape was killed just after Harry, Ron, and Hermione made it back to Hogwarts. If you're a Harry Potter purist I hope you aren't too upset by the changes. There will be one last chapter after this.**

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"Bleeding Christ!"

"Bloody Hell!"

"What the…"

Neville rolled his eyes when he appeared in a room surrounded by young witches and wizards who were entirely too jumpy for his liking. He supposed that it was natural. They'd been fighting for months and had had to resort to hiding themselves away in their own castle and with Harry having finally come back to them they all knew that the final battle was looming. To their credit almost all of them had pulled their wands and shot an offensive spell toward him, while others had cast defensive spells just as quickly to protect everyone in the room. They just hadn't anticipated that he would expect their moves or that he didn't need to speak or point a wand at them to cancel out their spells. He felt a little sorry for them that they all looked so terrified when their spells had no effect on him and raised his hands and smiled in what he hoped was a non-threatening way.

"I come in peace," He said jokingly, but it only seemed to put the others more on the defensive for reasons he didn't quite understand. He was almost ready to shove his hands in his pockets and shuffle his feet when Ron pushed his way through the frozen crowd, Hermione right behind him. He grinned at them and Hermione smiled back, but Ron stood tall, his arms crossed and a sour look on his face.

"'Bout time you showed your face, mate. Where the hell you been?"

"Traffic?" He quirked just the corner of his mouth and laughed when Ron finally broke and moved toward him in two large strides to pull him into a hard hug.

"Thanks for coming back," He whispered.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Neville assured him.

When Ron let him go, he hugged Hermione quickly, but couldn't tear his eyes from Harry, who was smiling at him as if he was everything good in the world. Neville wondered if the smile on his face was the same. When Hermione let him go to stand with Ron again he and Harry just looked at each other for a moment before Ron clearing his throat woke them from the spell and they practically flew to each other. He heard, and ignored, the gasps and whispers when he wrapped one arm around Harry's waist to lift him and buried his free hand in that beautiful, messy black hair and kissed him as if it had been years instead of days. Harry wrapped both of his arms around Neville's neck and kissed him back with just as much fervor, just as much intensity.

"Missed you," Harry murmured when they broke apart.

"You're my strength," Neville murmured back.

"But, I thought no one could apparate through the castle's defenses…" one of the younger students in the room whimpered, breaking them out of their own little world.

"Mate," Ron said gently, grinning, "Take any rules you think you know about magic and just throw them away when it comes to this one. And thank Merlin he's on our side."

"Right," Neville nodded, "Harry, Ron, Hermione…I need you three right now. Privately."

"Dumbledore's office." Harry murmured.

"Show me," Neville said quietly. Harry closed his eyes and Neville set a couple of fingers lightly to his temple so that he could see where they were headed before he grinned at the students again, "Back soon."

He heard the gasps again and fought not to roll his eyes as he took himself, Harry, Ron and Hermione out of the room and to the office Harry had shown him.

"Harry," he said, not bothering to keep his voice low or gentle as they stood in the private room, "Harry, I can't believe it took me so long to realize, but you're a Hororux and you…you already knew that."

"Just found out, to be fair," Harry admitted, his eyes shining with tears and his voice thick with them. "Snape…he wasn't who we thought. He…"

"Sweetheart," Neville took Harry in his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"It's okay. I'm glad I got to see you before…"

"Before what? What insane self-sacrificing plan have you gotten into your head now?" Neville demanded.

"We only have four left, Nev," Harry said, "The snake, the diadem, the cup and…and me. We have control over three of them. Ron and Hermione were going to go down into the Chamber of Secrets and get some basilisk fangs for the cup and the diadem. I…I'm going to let him kill me. If it saves others…"

"No." Neville's tone brooked no room for argument.

"Oh, thank God!" Hermione burst out, "Maybe you can talk some sense into him because so far he's ignored everything that Ron and I have said."

"Do you have any other ideas for distracting him and weakening him?!" Harry was practically shouting and Neville wondered how long they'd been arguing about it that he was already so angry. Harry buried his hands in his own hair and tugged harshly, "I don't want anyone else hurt or killed for Voldemort's personal war!"

"I have a suggestion," Neville interrupted, "Me."

"What?" Harry looked confused.

Neville closed his eyes for a moment and focused. He had to use the interdimensional magic that wasn't usually of much use to him to reach for the cup and the diadem, but once he'd locked onto them and used the portals it was as simple as reaching out to grab them to bring them into the room with them. They weren't living and so it was almost easy, now that he knew what they were, to pull the blackened soul they were imbued with out of them. He watched, fascinated, as the black almost smoke tried to escape his hold, to fix itself back to the items he had pulled it from, before he narrowed his eyes and his concentration and destroyed it with a flash of pure white magic and rage. It took more out of him than he'd expected, his knees felt weak and he could feel sweat starting at his temples, but he refused to let his friends see it, let Harry see it. They believed him to be nearly all powerful and if they were to continue to believe it he needed to keep up the pretense. It was something his uncle had taught him so long ago. If you could make people see what you wanted them to see often times the strength to make it a reality would eventually come.

"Did you just…" Ron's mouth was open.

"Yes," Neville affirmed, "There aren't four any longer. There're two. And I can do the same for you and the snake, Harry. It's a little bit more complicated when it's something living, but…"

He didn't finish before Harry was in his arms again, kissing him for all he was worth. He let himself lean into the kiss for just a moment before he pulled back.

"Ron, Hermione, I'm going to send you back where we came from. I need you to prepare everyone as best you can. Teachers, students, support staff, whoever you can…Once Voldemort feels the portion of his soul in Harry die I imagine he'll attack full force."

"The Order is on their way," Hermione nodded, "And some other friends. We'll all fight as best we can."

"There will be more support coming, too." Neville nodded, "Not all of it magical. Make sure they know The Avengers and any Asgardian they see aren't enemies?"

Ron's mouth dropped open again, "Avengers? Asgardians?"

"Did I never mention that the man who adopted me was Captain America?" Neville asked, enjoying their surprise.

"You most certainly did not!" Hermione nearly shrieked.

"Yeah…well…" He shrugged and sent them back to the previous room with a thought.

Harry was smiling at him when he turned back with a grin, but they both grew serious quickly.

"It's more dangerous with a living host, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Much more," Neville agreed honestly, "I'm not certain if I'll be able to separate the dark soul from the bright without killing the magic around it and if I kill the magic in your soul…"

"I die."

"Yes."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, "I love you, Neville, and I trust you."

"I love you so much, Harry." Neville took him in his arms and kissed him gently before whispering the Asgardian word of power for sleep. Harry went limp in his arms and he carried him to a long couch he saw in the corner. He looked up and around at the portraits that were staring at him with interest and said a quick prayer to whoever or whatever was listening, before he held his open hands just over Harry's body and closed his eyes.

At first, the bright magic that swirled around Harry fought him. It had protected him for so long. It wasn't about to give up without a fight. It took Neville what felt like an eternity to convince the magic of his intention to remove the dark magic that had been trying so much of his lover's life to corrupt him. At that point the protective magic moved aside and Neville was finally able to see what had been hidden from him for so long. The inky black of Voldemort's soul was so wrapped up with the brightness of Harry's own soul that all of it together almost looked grey. It fought him every step of the way as he tried to separate them strand by strand and it seemed that every time he got a tendril loose he couldn't hold onto it long enough to separate it totally before it wormed itself back into the mass. He could feel his body straining, the sweat pouring down his face as he worked and sobbed when Harry screamed as he accidently snapped one of bright strands in an effort to loose it from a dark one.

"Nana!" He called out, desperate, holding out a hand and calling his grandmother to him. He felt her presence in an instant and knew that she must have already been on Midgard, otherwise it would have taken her much longer to be by his side. But, just as she had always promised, when he called she was there.

"Here, my love," Frigga's voice was like a soothing balm as she put her hands to his shoulders.

"I can't lose him, Nana, but I…I'm not strong enough to…" He cried.

"That is enough!" Frigga's voice hardened into the voice of a shieldmaiden and All-Mother. "You are better than this dark wizard's magic, Neville. You are my grandson, trained by the best in all the realms, most powerful mage the multiverse has ever seen. You will not give up. You will finish this now. Take of my strength what you need and do it. Now!"

Frigga's magic that flowed into him then revitalized and strengthened him just as her words made him remember who he was, remember so much of his training that he'd set aside in his fear. He couldn't and wouldn't let his training lapse, let fear make him unsteady, simply because it was his lover who needed him. It was more important than ever that he remember it all, that he use it all. He clenched his jaw tight and renewed his efforts, this time allowing his anger to fill him and direct his actions. He was no longer desperate. He was furious. Furious at the wizard who dared to think that he was entitled to kill because of his own ideals. Furious that he had hurt Neville's own beloved for so much of his life, taken so much from Harry and so much from others. He knew that he couldn't kill him. That right was reserved for Harry, but he could give Harry every advantage possible. Every strand that he pulled away Frigga held in captivity for him until Harry's soul was pure as the day he was born. He let some of his strength and Frigga's flow into Harry then, to help him recover from the procedure, before he turned back to the howling portion of black soul that Frigga kept for him. With a single look, a single rage filled blast, it was no more.

A screaming wind came through the entirety of the castle, a scream of anger and temper from Voldemort. Neville rolled his eyes, wishing more than anything he could simply snuff the wizard out, but restraining himself as Harry began to waken. Neville leaned over and kissed Harry gently.

Frigga sniffed disdainfully, "Well, he's like a child throwing a fit, isn't he?" She scoffed.

"Exactly like that," Harry said on a groan as he blinked awake and Neville helped him sit up.

"How are you feeling, my darling?" Frigga, ever the healer, knelt gracefully in front of Harry, and took his face in her hands, turning it this way and that so that she could look into his eyes. Harry looked up at him for a moment, a question in his eyes.

"Harry, this is Frigga, All-Mother and Queen of Asgard. And my Nana."

"Your Majesty," Harry murmured.

"No, no." Frigga tutted absent-mindedly as she looked him over, "You are my grandson's chosen. You'll call me Nana, just as he does. Now, again, how are you feeling, my darling?"

"I feel…" Harry thought about it for a moment, then laughed, more light-hearted and delighted than Neville had ever heard him, "I feel lighter than I have in years! I…He's gone. I don't feel him anymore. It's almost like…like freedom." He was almost crying again as Frigga made a motherly noise from the back of her throat and pulled him in for a hug. Neville knew those hugs. Those hugs made you feel like everything was going to be okay, like you could be or do anything. He felt his heart hurt both in happiness and sadness to see the sweetly shocked look on Harry's face as Frigga hugged him.

"I wish we could take time to celebrate, love," Neville smiled, when Frigga pulled away. He leaned down and took Harry's chin between two fingers before he pressed another gentle kiss to his lips, "But, right now we have a battle to win."

"Right." Harry stood and pulled Neville close to kiss him deep and dirty, expressing every emotion he was feeling right then, joy, fury, gratitude, and something Neville would describe as warrior spirit in that one kiss before they took Neville's hand in one hand and Frigga's in the other and they were suddenly on a grand staircase, right in front of the battle raging. Harry grinned at Neville when he turned to look at him, shocked at his demonstration of new power, and then he darted into the fray.

"Freedom indeed," She said with a smile, before she turned to Neville and the soft smile spread into a mischievous grin that Neville recognized as the same one that was often on Loki's face, "Shall we?"

Neville bowed to his grandmother in the Asgardian courtly fashion before they both inserted themselves into the battle. He lost track of how long he was fighting as he twirled in and out of conflicts, throwing up shields to protect students and allies, taking as much power away from the enemies as he could without killing them before he incapacitated them. It was better than they deserved, but he knew that he had to yield to the laws of the magical community Harry belonged to, not the harsher laws he'd made for himself. If it had been up to him they'd all be dead. He did refuse, however, to feel badly when he didn't have time to incapacitate, but sent out a killing bolt at the dark wizard werewolf hybrid that was going for a young woman.

"The spells are visible!" He called out when he saw his Uncle Loki leading The Avengers and other Asgasdian warriors through a portal, "Watch yourselves with them. Try to incapacitate if you can!"

He almost understood the lust he saw in his fathers' eyes as they jumped into the battle, keeping half their attention on each other, half on the fight. His fathers were both true warriors when they needed to be and knowing your partner was powerful wasn't the same as seeing it. It was a strange sensation to see his Dad so happy and so turned on by his husband. Half of him was happy that Steve had found that kind of love. The other half of him was a little disgusted, because that was his Dad!

"Focus, Magic Man!" Uncle Tony shouted as he pulled him out of the way of a spell, "Puke later! Fight now!"

"Thanks!" He called and pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

The magic alerted him when the snake was near and he found her, curled and ready to strike at Ron and Hermione. He held out a hand and froze her in place before nodding at Ron and Hermione as they rejoined the other combatants.

"You're lovely," Neville murmured as he brought her closer to him, "Too lovely to be a pet for a madman. Nagini. Harry told me that's your name. You were a witch once. Trapped now in this body. Why did you choose to ally yourself with Voldemort? If I release his soul from you can you swear to me that you will live a peaceful life, never to attack others again? Never to approach magic users again?"

He released her for a moment, but sighed when she tried to strike out at him.

"I'm sorry, Nagini," He said gently. He wanted to see something in her eyes, something that would give him some sort of hope for her redemption. Hers was a long, sad story, after all, and he'd wanted redemption for her, some sort of happy ending. But there was nothing in her eyes. He wondered if she even remembered her humanity any longer. Were he to let her go she would only find the next dark wizard to try to rise when the battle with Voldemort was over.

"I'm so sorry," he shook his head, and closed his eyes as his magic tore her apart. He allowed himself a single tear for her before he joined the battle again, not keeping track of how many he protected, how many he incapacitated. After what felt like an eternity he stood over yet another enemy bound and unconscious on the floor, loosing focus. He didn't even realize that he'd been standing there, unmoving for minutes, without another attacker coming after him. But, he whipped around, hands up, magic ready, when someone touched his shoulder.

"Papa," he allowed himself to finally feel the exhaustion of the day and slumped into Leonard's ready arms, when he saw that it was his father behind him, "Is it done?"

"It's done," Len wrapped an arm around his eldest's waist and helped him to the great hall, where the wounded were being treated, "Your boy didn't have to kill. The dark wizard, whatever-his-name-was, ended up doing it to himself. Something about a wand. I didn't quite get it."

"We'll explain later." Neville was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, but he forced his eyelids back up because he had to know, "Casualties?"

"Better than expected. Some pretty decent injuries to some of the kids. A couple of deaths among the older wizards. And your Uncle Tony's newest armor is a lost cause. We'll all have to hear about that for…ever."

"We were lucky." Neville admitted.

"Yes, we were."

"Neville!" Steve had his arms around them both before either of them were prepared for it, but neither Neville nor Len minded. The three of them stood, holding each other for a couple of minutes, arms around each other's waists, foreheads together and simply breathed each other in. They were so much luckier than they had any right to expect.

"Neville," Uncle Loki wrapped his arms around him when his fathers passed him off, "I'm so proud of you, but it seems you did not listen to my advice."

"Hmm?" Neville was swaying on his feet as his uncle turned him so that he could finally, finally see Harry. His love was surrounded by what could only be the Weasley's. The short, pleasantly round older woman and the almost stately gentleman were holding him close, with the woman pressing kiss after kiss to his face, his hair. Ron and Hermione were near, helping to patch up the twins, who were grinning as if the battle had all been great fun, and the others were all gathered around giving each other comfort, but as far as Neville could see understand in his exhausted state, they were all there and all relatively unharmed. He was glad. His lover deserved to have his family safe.

"Neville?" Harry's worried look made him want to wake up more, to respond to his lover's fear, but he was just so tired.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. Harry broke away from his family so that he could come to Neville's side. A sweet, soft kiss later and Neville knew that he could rest. He felt himself swept up to his uncle's arms as his vision went grey.

"Neville!"

"Don't worry, Harry Potter," Loki's voice was gentle and understanding, "He is exhausted, but all will be well when he has had some time for rest."

"I love you," he heard Harry whisper and he tried to whisper is back, but wasn't certain if he'd succeeded or not before the grey faded into black.


	7. Chapter 7

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply**

 **A/N: A very short epilogue of sorts. This isn't the last time we'll see Neville and Harry. I have other stories planned for the other kids. Next will be three one-shots. One for Clarice, one for Kurt, and one for a mystery couple within the universe. Kudos to anyone who can guess who it will be. ;) If you have a spare moment, feedback is always appreciated.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who has been following this story and the universe I have thrown together here. I know it's a lot of fandoms thrown together, but somehow in my mind it all words. I hope it does for you, too!**

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He knew right away as he woke that he was home. Just as he knew that he was not in his own bed, which made him open his eyes in curiosity before he was ever fully awake. It took a couple of minutes for his brain to connect to what his eyes were seeing and what his ears were hearing. There were toys all over a very familiar rug and a very familiar television set was softly playing some kind of nature program. One of the ones that Pasha had been obsessed with when he'd left and apparently was still obsessed with. He felt his eyebrows draw down in a kind of a disbelieving frown.

"Seriously?" He asked out loud.

"Meaning did you seriously get regulated to the couch in your own house right after being all big damn hero over in England?" Neville peaked over the back of the couch to see Jamie huddled down in the reading corner that he remembered Steve putting in for him and Clarice. Jamie had taken over it as he got older and it had become the space that he went when he needed to be alone. He could pull the tent fabric closed and turn on his reading light and simply have time to himself. Of the three kids who made up The Trio Jamie was the one who needed to most time for introspection and privacy. As confident as he tried to present himself he was, in truth, an introvert, and needed to recharge himself by being alone.

"Exactly," Neville smiled at his brother, and motioned to him to join him on the couch. Jamie grinned and vaulted himself over the back of the couch so that he could lean into Neville and snuggle up. Neville wrapped his arm around Jamie and pressed a kiss to his dark hair, "So…why am I on the couch?"

"Because Uncle Loki told Dad and Papa that you were just tired, not wounded, and none of your new boyfriend's family, and some of his friends, wanted to leave him yet and he wouldn't leave you so Papa gave his parents your room. The brothers and sisters and some of the friends are in magic tents in the backyard. All of the Aunts and Uncles and Nana are here, too. There's, like, a hundred people in our house right now."

"No wonder you needed some time in your tent," Neville said, nodding his head sagely. Jamie smiled up at his understanding.

"Harry seems nice," he said, quietly happy, "And his family and friends are awesome, too. Especially the twin guys. There's just so many of them and it can get so loud! Even for us!"

"I bet!" Neville laughed when Jamie giggled. Being raised with so many siblings it was hard to believe that anyone could be as loud as them, but there were just as many Weasleys as there were Rogers-McCoys and from what Harry and Ron had said, they were just as rambunctious, so the house was probably in very happy, not so controlled chaos right now. And Neville couldn't wait to join it. He pressed one more kiss to Jamie's head, "You take all the time you need, brother. Join us when you're ready."

"'Kay!" Jamie flipped himself over the couch and snuggled himself back into his tent before closing the flaps.

Neville shook his head with a smile and got up. He wouldn't usually have used magic for frivolous things like freshening up and changing his clothes, but who knew what kind of state the restroom situation was in, so he shrugged and allowed the magic to change him into his favorite worn jeans and the comfortable sweater that had been a gift from Uncle Sam. Being cleaned without actual water was always an experience, kind of like all of the dirt and sweat was vibrating off of him. He had yet to figure out where it went, but he'd never thought about it too deeply, either. When he was satisfied that he didn't smell and he was as comfortable as he was going to get he left the room. He was surprised that he didn't see more people as he made his way to the back of the house where the kitchen was. But, he supposed if there were magic tents outside that was probably where most of his siblings were and he knew that his parents liked the coziness of the kitchen when they had company, so he assumed they were probably there.

He was proven right when he got to the kitchen and noticed in his periphery that his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and his Nana and Uncle Bruce were at the table, sipping on coffee and talking quietly. But, he only really had eyes for Harry. He'd also cleaned up and looked healthier than Neville could ever remember seeing him, despite the cut just under his eye that was being held closed with a butterfly bandage. His hair was clean and soft looking, sticking up every which way in black spikes. There was a smile on his face and a healthy flush to his skin and he was also in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt that Neville had seen many times. His feet were bare. Neville didn't know why that turned him on, but it did. And even more sexy to him, was that Harry was holding Pasha and dancing around the room with him. Neville leaned against the doorjamb for a minute to watch them. There was a hunger deep in his belly that he'd never felt before. He'd never wanted kids and he'd doubted that he'd ever fall deeply in love enough with anyone to ask them to marry him, but seeing Harry dancing with a baby on his hip, looking so happy, Neville was ready to drop to one knee and ask him to marry him right there. And kids. Kids someday would be perfect. Harry was it for it, he knew. He could only hope that Harry felt the same.

He felt his heart flutter and an inappropriate part of his anatomy attempt to stir when Harry turned around and finally caught sight of him and the smile he smiled then was a smile Neville had only ever seen directed at himself. God, he was gorgeous. He tamped down on the arousal. They had plenty of time for that later. But, he did allow his heart to overflow with love and what felt almost like a bright white light as he took the last three steps to his lover and wrapping one arm around his waist, and the other around his baby brother's back so that he was still held securely, kissed his Harry within an inch of both of their lives until Pasha interrupted by smacking him on the head.

"What was that for?" He asked on a laugh as he pulled away from Harry's mouth.

"Harry is mine," Pasha pouted, "New best."

"A new best, huh?" Neville mock-growled and took Pasha in his arms, spinning his baby around and tossing him in the air a little ways to make him shriek with laughter.

"Pasha's taken a real shine to Harry," Len agreed as he took his youngest from Neville when he handed him over.

"Pasha's got good taste," Neville agreed before making his way back to Harry and taking him more gently in his arms.

"Nev," Harry murmured, standing on his toes so that he could press their foreheads together gently.

"Hey, sweetheart," Neville whispered.

"It's over," Harry's voice was thick, but Neville knew that he wasn't going to let the tears come in front of everyone. Maybe later when they were alone.

"It's over." Neville agreed, "And now our lives can start."

"Our life," Harry corrected, "Together."

"Together." Neville agreed, and kissed him again.


End file.
